Nor The Battle To The Strong or Operation FRACTURE
by The J.A.M. a.k.a. Numbuh i
Summary: Wally has to fight his way out of the DC's clutches...with a broken arm! Trapped behind enemy lines, can Wally somehow emphasize brains over brawn and find a way out of his predicament?
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

_Wut da crud was I doing here again?_

Pain, so much pain…

_Can't see, too dark, arm feels like someone chopped it off, sweat, smell of metal, hoodie getting more and more wet, more and more sticky, pain whenever I try to move my right arm, pain when I try to walk, pain when I blink, pain when I try to focus, red, red everywhere, dark red, seeing red, lights are dim but red, walls are red, hoodie is red, skin is red—_

He banged the back of his head against a wall—a metallic wall, he noticed.

He banged his head again, not to cause pain, but to try to ease pa—

_Head feels like it's going to explode, eyes going to burst, nose and mouth can't exhale fast enough, ears ringing, something is connecting horrible pain from my arm to my neck to my brain, must clear head, can't think, can't focus, can't walk, can't open fists, just want to crawl and go to sleep—_

_Wut da crud am I supposed to be doing here?_

He pulled up his jeans as best as he could. Something had happened earlier that caused them to droop slightly, but he could only use his left hand to straighten them, and as he did, he felt something in his pocket.

_Wut da crud is this? A paper? Cruddy red crumpled paper, can't even read wuts on it, though it looks like it's some instructions about something and—_

_Wut else is here?_

He felt something else in his pocket, and yanked it out.

_Hard paper, no, cardboard, no, it's a picture, cruddy red picture, can't tell what's on it—no, wait, there's a shape of something in it, crud, I can't focus, ah, it's the shape of a head, and—perhaps a face, yes, a face, I think I know that face, I've seen it before, it's—_

_Kuki…_

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED


	2. Chapter 1: Fracture

TRANSMISSION RESTORED

CHAPTER 1: FRACTURE

(…unWARP!!!)

Good evening.

This story is part of the collaborative project brought up by Lord Malachite, to celebrate the series finale of KND. This fanfic is part of the character-driven short story series featuring solos, or duets, at most.

Here we see Wallaby Beatles, a.k.a. Numbuh Four, in a solo mission, or what's left of it. There is plenty of pain and angst here, so those of you with light dispositions better turn away ;)

LM called this story "Nor The Battle To The Strong", but I also gave it an alternate title.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Without pain we'd have injuries like you wouldn't believe." — The J.A.M.

Now loading

Kids Next Door Mission

"Nor The Battle To The Strong"

or

Operation:

F.R.A.C.T.U.R.E.

Feral

Raging

Australian

Can't

Think

Until

Reaching

Exterior

Writing Operative: The J.A.M. (but please call me J.A.M.)

Editing Officer: professor Nathaniel T. Freeman

_To all Kids, whether they're children, teens, or adults._

* * *

Slowly, the red in his eyes cleared up.

_Oh, yeah, I remember now. I'm Wallaby Beatles, codename Numbuh Four of the Kids Next Door, and I'm on a mission here to get…to get…_

_…wut da crud was I supposed to get here?_

He looked at Kuki's picture one more time, and while his brain still felt like it was going to explode, his rage and feral instincts subsided just enough to allow him to remember.

* * *

He had been selected to do this mission alone.

The drill on the P.I.P.E.P.O.D. turned out to be insufficient to make a bigger hole, and they couldn't make a bigger one anyway, not if they didn't want the sewer to collapse on top of them, and very possibly, the whole mansion as well.

He was chosen unanimously to carry out this mission because it was a simple infiltrate-and-retrieve operation. That, and he was the smallest of Sector V who could fit through the hole AND not likely to be distracted by anything AND he was certain to keep serious about the mission, unlike Numbuh Three.

So, they drilled the hole on top of the sewer pipe, and he lifted himself through. He then opened a tiny service hatch above the pipe, which was barely large enough for an adult to fit his arm and perhaps shoulder, but a reasonably tight fit for someone Wally's size.

Unfortunately, just when he was about to close the hatch, Numbuh One called him and informed him that the P.I.P.E.P.O.D. had to move so as not to cause any suspicions by making the sewer back up, and that they'd be back for him in one hour, or less if he finished his mission sooner and requested an impromptu extraction.

He shrugged at that. He could do this cruddy mission in ten minutes if he so chose, especially since Father was nowhere around here, but was instead fighting some sector in China or Mexico over some…hot spice or something.

Either way, he was alone, and according to Numbuh Five, the Delightful Dorks shouldn't bother him either because not even they were allowed down here…wherever it was—

—uh, right: the lowest level of Father's Mansion.

He came up under a large rock, which, despite its huge size, he had no problems moving. Pulling himself out of the hatch and looking around, he found himself in what appeared to be an underground garden, or tank, as he saw a huge window framed by a metallic wall, and there was an office inside the window.

The window wasn't made of glass, but of transparent plastic, and since there was no water in this "tank", it wasn't completely sealed. With his unnatural strength, he was able to pry open one corner of the plastic pane and squeeze himself through to the office.

Standing and straightening himself, he looked back at his handiwork. The corner of the plastic pane had barely bent back into the tank, leaving a small crack, but the room didn't have enough light for it to be THAT noticeable. And if Father noticed, he would chalk that up as faulty or insufficient glue.

He looked around the office or "viewing room", which Numbuh Five had identified as Father's "inner sanctum", whatever that meant. Well, it meant that Father came down here to do some super-secret stuff that not even the Delightful Children had access to, but now, thanks to him, the Kids Next Door would have.

There was a thick pipe in the middle of the room that went up to the ceiling, and it had a valve on its side; perhaps it carried water or coffee. Beside it, on the ceiling, was a huge light fixture that almost looked like a transporter, and right below it was a large chair, almost like a spaceship captain's. It could rotate, making it able to face a small yellow console in front of a tunnel, and rotating more it would face a very large console, with a keyboard and three screens.

That must be it.

No bookshelves, bookcases, filing cabinets, or any paper of any kind here.

The information must be on that computer.

Numbuh One, Numbuh Eighty-Six, and even Numbuh Three Sixty-Two would have objected at having him retrieve information from a computer, since they believed him to lack the intelligence to operate any computer that was not a video game console. Numbuh Two had faith in him, however. Well, more than faith in him, specifically, he trusted a little gadget that the KND nerds had come up with.

Numbuh Four pulled out a keychain that had attached what appeared to be a very thick Swiss army knife with a few LEDs.

KIDS NEXT DOOR:

W.A.R.P.D.R.I.V.E.

Wielded

Accessory

Retrieves

Program

Data

Rapidly.

Incredible

Velocity,

Eh?

Pressing a button on its side made the tip swivel open to reveal a USB connection.

He didn't even have to turn on Father's computer. All he had to do was insert the modified flash drive, and it would automatically copy everything from the disks. No complex commands, no graphics to read, just insert, copy, wait for the green light, and go.

He had no problems finding the corresponding port, so he inserted the W.A.R.P.D.R.I.V.E., and waited.

Perhaps it was the shifting of air pressure from the office to the tank, perhaps it was a program that alerted the electronic intrusion, but at that moment, alarms began blaring all over the place.

Wally jumped to his feet as the tank window was suddenly sealed with a steel wall, and he heard doors all around him shutting closed and electronic locks beeping as their codes were scrambled.

TRAPPED!

No, wait. One door, at the far end of one corridor, was still closing slowly.

_RUN LIKE HELL!!!_

As he dashed for the door with panic-fuelled speed, he could see the gap getting smaller and smaller, as the two halves of the door came together. He would have to duck in order to avoid the "circle" that was right in the middle, the lock, apparently.

Faster, faster, faster!

_Gonna have to do a sideways limbo here…_

Getting closer, he saw he couldn't duck and roll under the lock, so he decided to cartwheel himself out in order to give himself an extra kick of speed to make it through the crack.

_Jump, push, kick, push, kick, push, flip, flip—JUMP!!!_

As planned, he catapulted himself over the lock, and was even able to kick off it in order to give himself one last push. His next problem, he thought, was going to be the landing, as he didn't know how close the opposite wall was—

CRUNCH

Cartwheels normally required the arms to be extended.

And given that he was operating on instinct and ingrained practice, he had done just that.

And because his arm was extended, the door sealed shut between his right shoulder and elbow.

True, this wasn't the first time he had broken a bone before. That, in fact, was something he could take, if it happened quickly enough, like when he got smashed by a ba-million pianos last year.

This time, however, the break was slow, and it was involving bone, muscle, AND skin.

He gasped, ready to scream—

—but he couldn't scream.

He could only gasp and mouth expressions of pain incoherently as the explosion of pain robbed him of all ability to speak. That, and all ability to think rationally, as his brain suddenly switched to its Primal Survival Instinct Mode, and gave Wally a new mission:

SURVIVE

The concept of "red alert" has psychological origins. When one is faced with extreme anger, many say that they see red.

Wally could see nothing _but_ red at this point.

His left arm and both legs were flailing randomly as he was literally hanging from the door. He had no leverage whatsoever to push or pull, and if he didn't do anything quickly, he was very likely going to lose his right arm.

Slowly, his primal instinct allowed some intelligence to get through. Wally looked down and saw how the lock more or less fit into both halves of the door, how the "circle" wasn't totally flush with the metal plate, and how his legs were positioned.

Grunting, he planted his right leg on the "circle", allowing him to ease the pressure on his arm. With very laboured breathing, he moved his left foot as high as he could to plant it on the opposite half of the door. Then, conjuring up all the strength that was somehow packed into his compact body, he began to push the halves apart with his legs, steadying himself with his left arm.

Nothing.

The door wasn't moving.

Panic overtook him with a vengeance, and with strength he didn't know he had, he pushed harder.

Still nothing.

He couldn't stay here. He couldn't let Father capture him. He couldn't let those Delightful Dorks capture him. He couldn't let himself be—

_—delightfulised…_

"…………nnnnnnnnoooooooo………" he almost screamed, and with the groaning of his own throat, and of straining gears, slowly, agonizingly slowly, the door began to open.

He almost found the strength to scream in pain as his arm was slowly released, now that blood was flowing again, and it suddenly flopped almost lifelessly at his side. All his clothes became drenched with sweat almost instantly, and his hair matted into his head

As more and more space became available, he adjusted his position so he could now push the doors apart with both legs and his back, and then adjusting a bit more he was able to push with his left arm as well.

Gears strained and levers bent as the door was moved against its designed specification.

Gritting his teeth almost to the point of shattering them, Wally knew that he was going to have to jump off, otherwise the door was going to smash on him again—

PLANG!!!

The closing mechanism suddenly gave, jamming the door in the open position, and the blonde boy felt the resisting force stop. With a painful grunt, he hopped off the "circle", but collapsed on his left side the moment he landed.

He didn't know for how long he lay there, unable to lose consciousness, unable to move because of the pain, unable to speak, unable to think, and even unable to breathe properly.

It was sometime after that, moving as best as he could, he found himself leaning against a wall and banging his head on it, and that was when he found Kuki's picture in his jeans pocket.

_Kuki…_

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	3. Chapter 2: Second Blood

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CHAPTER 2: SECOND BLOOD

An odd calm slowly descended on him. While his arm still felt horrible and his head still felt like it was going to explode, he was able to control his breathing and pull his teeth apart. He blinked away tears and sweat and shook his matted hair from his face as best as he could.

Now that he was able to think clearly and assess his situation, his training was able to surface, if just a bit over his primal survival instinct. Looking down at himself, in what dim light there was here, he saw that his shoes, jeans, and orange hoodie were completely drenched with sweat, and the hoodie was turning red over the right sleeve and right side.

Panting, he moved to a kneeling position, and bit the left shoulder of the hoodie, allowing him to wiggle his left arm out and under the shirt. With his good arm free, he pulled the hoodie over his head, but he had to take it VERY slow when it came to pulling down the sleeve from his injured arm.

Something was scraping somewhere, he realised with fear.

He had to almost roll the sleeve down, at least until it got past his elbow, and his jaw trembled when he saw what had happened.

He wasn't a medical officer, though as a combat specialist, he had SOME first aid training, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw on himself.

It would be sufficient to say that he couldn't accurately describe what he saw on his arm. He only knew that it wasn't supposed to look _flattened_, or _torn_, and much less _bleeding—_

Bleeding, yes, he had to stop the bleeding.

Since he wasn't a medical officer, he didn't have any bandages on him, so he would have to improvise. Taking his soaked hoodie, he used his teeth to tear loose the left sleeve, and again with the most agonizing slowness, and practically unspeakable pain, he somehow managed to wrap it around his broken arm, occasionally holding it with his teeth, and he had to choke back a scream when he tightened the makeshift bandage and tied it up.

He then pulled the other sleeve into the hoodie, flung it around his neck and tied it to itself, forming an impromptu sling.

Now came the hard part.

The only injured part of his arm was between his shoulder and elbow, meaning that everything from his elbow to his hand was relatively uninjured, but the fact that he couldn't even flex his fingers without his head exploding meant that bending his arm to fit into the sling was going to be a bit of a problem.

Take it slow.

_"Slow", can't take too long in here, I've been down here for too long, who knows if Father is back already…_

He tried to control his breathing as he put his left hand through the sling, gently took his right hand, and began to lift.

_Lift, don't turn the wrist, just lift—OW!!!—yes, just—just bend it—slow—slow————_

He took a deep breath in order to halt another scream.

_Head's gonna explode, the Delightful Dorks are gonna find me with my brains everywhere—AAAAHHHH!!!!_

His jaw trembled, and he waited for the sting to subside. He couldn't move any more without risking blacking out. But, as his breathing slowed, he saw that his injured arm was safely nestled in the sling.

He couldn't sigh with relief just yet. Any movement still shot spikes of pain from his arm to his brain, though not as intense as before. Gently, he pulled the rest of the soaked hoodie over his torso, so now his injured arm was covered, and his good arm was left bare.

_Uh, now what?_

_Oh, right, call for help._

His good arm fumbled around his hoodie and pants pockets until he found his communicator, cleverly disguised as a deodorant stick. He activated it and said, "K—K—Kiiiii—K—"

_Darn it, stop mumbling and call for help!!!_

He took another deep breath and tried to speak through his hyperventilation, "ThisisNum—Numm—buhFouroftheK—theK—Kids——NextDooranysector—m—medicalemergency——Oi'matFaaaaaa—" deep breath, "—Faaaather'smansion—lowestlevel——anysectorcomein—come—in—medicalemer—emergency—"

His communicator beeped a moment later, and got a response: _"No KND signal detected. Suggest maintenance."_

_Crud_, he thought as he pocketed it. Now he was truly alone. He could use his emergency siren, but even if _that_ signal went through, it would also alert anyone still in the mansion.

Well, he could wait one hour and let the rest of Sector V arrive and—

—no. Father's room was sealed, as would be the rest of the mansion, and they had no way of tracking his position, and no way to talk to him.

They would have to fight their way all the way to this level, just to find him.

_No._

He had to get moving.

_NOW._

Carefully, he stood, feeling light-headed as he straightened up. Low on sugar, yes, he must be low on sugar. He pulled out a handful of candy from his back pocket, unwrapped them furiously, and stuffed them in his mouth. It was the milk candy type, so the sugar rush SHOULD be enough to last until he got out.

Slowly, his head cleared a bit more, and he was able to look around and see the tunnel network he was in. Finding an exit shouldn't be TOO complex, after all, he only needed to go one way: up.

And the next side tunnel he saw had a stairway that went up.

Well, that was easy enough. He just wondered how many steps he would have to go through to find daylight again—

_HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!_

_MROOOOOOOOWWWWLLLLLLL!!!_

It was bad enough to encounter _one_ ferocious cat, even if it was a domestic one.

It was a completely different picture encountering _five_ ferocious cats, especially when they hissed and growled at him in unison.

A white one, an orange one, a cream one, a sandy one, and a black one with a blue cone on its neck.

All of them male.

All with mindless blue eyes.

_Don't tell me Father is also delightfulising pets!!!_ he thought. Even Catlady's cats didn't move like this, not even when they formed that giant cat.

And they were advancing on him in unison, too…

And licking their chops?

_Oh, crud…the blood, he he he…_

"Uh…noice kitties…good kitties…Oi'll…just go back…uh…stay…uh…heel…um…play dead?"

As he was backing down the stairs, not daring to remove them from his sight, he took a misstep, and fell back.

The Sinister Felines From Atop The Litterbox took this opportunity and pounced on the Australian.

He had enough sense to tense himself and keep his head up in order to avoid hitting the back of it, but he got another blast of pain in his arm the moment his spine hit the stairs.

It didn't help that the Sinister Felines all landed on his injured arm, claws blazing.

And that was what set off Wallaby Beatles.

Keeping quiet was pointless now, since the cats blew their own cover. But now their wailing and screaming was mixed by what sounded like a banshee.

Wally was never sure what happened in those sixty seconds. All he saw was red, and all he felt was heavy fur and claws all over himself. Something was causing him pain, and the only thing he knew what to do was to return the blows. He was grabbing—_something_, throwing—_something_, kicking—_something_, smashing his good fist on—_something_, trying to keep his injured arm pressed to his side, but all the clawing and biting that he was receiving was making him growl—and fight—like a dog.

He then rolled over and heard a feline scream. Thinking quickly, he sat forcefully on whatever was under him. Something then clawed at his face and he immediately smashed his head on a wall, making that something fall limp and release him. His hand then felt something long and thin, and instinctively, he grabbed it and started twirling it and smashing it around until the clawing and biting stopped—

The next thing he knew was that he was on his back, near the top of the staircase, still sweating, hyperventilating, and the redness in his vision ebbing back into the dim metallic grey of his surroundings. The stinging in his good arm, face, torso, back, and legs, oddly enough (despite him wearing jeans), accentuated by his sweat, gave him a release from the atrocious pain in his right arm, possibly because now his brain didn't have to focus on ONE point of injury. He tapped his thigh a bit, and again felt something in his pocket, which he fished out.

_Kuki…_

It was odd that her picture seemed to calm him down even more, to the point that now his ears cleared up the buzzing brought by the pain in his arm.

He heard some pitiful moaning from below him at this point. Blinking into focus, he looked down the stairs to see what had happened.

The cats that had attacked him were limping their way down the stairs, some were licking their injuries, some were trying to move in unison away from the crazy kid—

—two of them weren't moving.

_Ehh, probably knocked out cold,_ he thought. Slowly, he turned, stood, and limped his way up the stairs, almost having to crawl by the time he reached the top. As he walked, his shoes swished as his socks soaked up sweat that couldn't seem to stop.

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED


	4. Chapter 3: Light Show

TRANSMISSION RESTORED

CHAPTER 3: LIGHT SHOW

He wasn't sure where the hallway led to; he just knew that he had to find another staircase, and despite limping around the darkness, he couldn't find another one.

_How da crud does one get DOWN to this place?_

Well, at least the walls weren't metallic anymore, meaning that he was closer to the surface. Still, he needed to rest.

_Crud, that candy's making me thirsty…where are the water fountains in this place?_

He looked around to verify that no one was approaching, and made sure that he didn't hear any footsteps, either. Sighing, he leaned against a wall, and squatted next to an ivory pedestal that had a metal head of—someone.

The sugar rush was ending faster than he anticipated, so he fumbled around his pockets for more candy. He didn't bother unwrapping them this time, but instead just chewed up the plastic right along with the candy. The pain in his arm was numbing even his sense of taste. He did spit out some wrappers as best as he could, not that it would make any difference for him at this point.

He rested for a bit, waiting for the sugar to kick in, wiping hair and sweat out of his eyes, but he was a bit surprised that it seemed to take longer to take effect. Once his head cleared, he slowly stood, not knowing that he had left a red smear on the wall behind him. As he was standing, though, he stumbled a bit and bumped into the pedestal. It didn't fall over, but the head that was on top tipped over and fell on him.

Or more exactly, his hand. The sugar had made him alert enough to keep his eyes on the top of the pedestal, and so he was able to catch the metal head with his good hand.

No harm done.

Gently, he stood on his toes and reached out to put it back on the—

Lights flashed and alarms rang all over the hallway.

Startled, he hid behind the pedestal. Either his friends were attacking now, in hopes of rescuing him, or—

—or he had just set off the mansion's defences.

AGAIN.

The alarms drowned out the whirring of motors as panels opened up from the ceiling and small machines descended from them.

Wally had to get out of there. The Delightful Children, or worse, Father's Ice Cream men, were going to arrive any moment. He tried to stand so he could—

ZAPBOOM!!!

He jumped, instinctively, as a laser bolt blasted behind him, and jumped again as one followed directly after it, right where he was just standing.

Lasers bolts began raining from the ceiling at this point.

His second reaction to a laser attack was to draw his own weapon, a M.U.S.K.E.T. He had no blaster of his own, unfortunately, and each jump and landing was sending more and more jolts of pain from his arm to his head. Normally he wouldn't have any problems dodging the lasers, but given his current condition, he could definitely feel his legs getting rubbery. Even his aim was a bit off, as he tried to shoot back at the ceiling turrets. He was jumping off the walls and shelves as best as he could, and even took out a turret or two, but the lasers wouldn't stop, and there were no windows, staircases, or doors anywhere in the hallway to hide in, and the mustard he was dumping everywhere wasn't helping much, even with direct hits.

A nasty stumble sent him rolling on the floor, but he was careful to land on his left side. A bolt blasted on the sole of his right foot, shoving him backward.

And one more bolt blasted on his right shoulder.

It was very odd to hear a scream drown out a rain of bolts and blastings.

Survival instinct forced him to look for cover, or shielding, at least, but the strobe alarm lights were distorting movement and distance. Another blast shoved him back into the wall; though this time he felt something jab at the small of his back. Glancing behind him, he saw a metallic plate, about the size of his torso, screwed on the wall.

Without thinking, he dropped his M.U.S.K.E.T., turned, grabbed the edge of the plate as best as he could, and slowly tore it off the wall, along with some plaster and wallpaper. He then knelt and tried to shield himself from the rain of bolts that appeared to be concentrating on him at this point, and he knew that the plate wasn't going to protect him for long. Maybe if he could crawl into whatever the plate was—

He whirled, and inside the hole in the wall, he saw a tangle of electric wires.

_No time like the present…_

Again without thinking, he dropped the plate, grabbed a handful of wires, planted his feet on the wall, and yanked as hard as he could.

Instinctively, he shut his eyes to protect himself from the shower of sparks that rained briefly on him. He thought he felt an electric shock or two, but it was minor compared to how his arm felt.

And then, silence.

And darkness.

Lying flat on his back, still holding the handful of wires, he saw that the entire hallway had fallen silent. The turrets weren't moving, and there was no whirring of electric motors or ominous hum of charging capacitors.

Dropping the wires, he stood, shaking his head and holstering his dropped M.U.S.K.E.T.

He was going to get _killed_ at this rate.

Then again, with his head nearly exploding at this point, that wouldn't be such a bad ide—

He felt the picture again.

Pulling it out, and after letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he saw that one corner was singed from a bolt that landed too close, and a drop of sweat fell from it.

After looking at Numbuh Three for a bit, his breathing calmed again, and the red faded from his vision.

_Okay, that's taken care of, but how da crud am I supposed to get out of here? There's no—_

He blinked, and looked closer at the hole in the wall. He could _still_ see some wires, despite the near-total darkness. Something was shining a very faint light into that hole, visible only in the near-total darkness of the hallway. He leaned inside and pushed aside more wires as best as he could, ignoring the sparks, and looked closer.

A laundry chute!

Yes, now he had a perfect way to get out of there. He pushed himself inside some more—

—and nearly screamed again as his arm scraped on the wall. He forced himself to stay completely still, despite his awkward position, as he hyperventilated the pain away. After a while, he was able to pull himself inside and reach the rope that controlled the "elevator". It was hard pulling it with just one sweaty hand, but eventually, the wooden platform was now beside him.

Leaning on his left side again, he pulled his feet into the hole, stepping on the frayed cables. He couldn't cover up the hole with the metal plate anymore, so he hoped no one would notice the damage until he got out of the mansion. Then, grasping the rope firmly, he hoisted himself onto the plank, and sat still for a moment to catch his breath. Less and less sweat dripped from his chin, but he still blew out a few drops every time he exhaled. He then let go of the rope to get more candy—

—and he burned his hand briefly on the rope as he stopped his sudden freefall. It looked like he was going to have to wait until he got out of the chute before he got more candy.

He looked up at the dim light, and wondered.

_How da crud am I going to pull myself up with only one hand?_

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	5. Chapter 4: Venting

TRANSMISSION RESTORED

CHAPTER 4: VENTING

_Bite._

_Clench._

_Grab._

_Open mouth._

_Pull._

_Bite._

_Clench._

_Grab._

_Open mouth._

_Pull._

_Bite._

_Clench._

_Grab._

_Open mouth._

_Pull._

_Bite._

_Clench._

_…rest…_

He had been hoisting himself up, using his good arm to pull and his teeth to hold the rope, for the past…hour…or two…one foot at a time. Now his left arm seemed to join his right in the threshold of pain intensity. He caught his breath through his teeth as he bit down on the rope, closing his eyes, and wondering if anyone of Sector V had noticed that he hadn't called in yet.

But he hoped that Father had not come back to the mansion, either.

He wanted to sleep right where he was, but there was no way to secure the plank, and there was the risk that the Delightful Children would dump their laundry and then wonder why the chute would seem to be stuck.

He had to continue.

_Grab._

_Open mouth._

_Pull._

_Bite._

_Clench._

_Grab._

_Open mouth._

_Pull._

_Bite._

_Clench._

_Grab._

_Open mouth._

_Pull._

_Bite._

_Clench…_

On and on he went, ascending perhaps only 50 feet altogether, but feeling as if he was trying to reach the Moonbase.

Finally, eventually, he sighed in relief when he reached the source of the light. On the wall in front of him, there were cracks that marked the edges of the chute door. He leaned closer and peeked through the cracks, seeing a refrigerator, a stove, and some cabinets.

And a window or two.

Ground level! He was almost out!

He slowly rotated himself so that his feet were next to the door. Then, scooting closer, he planted his feet on the door, and waited.

He remained completely still, trying to drown out his own erratic heartbeat and breathing, in order to listen to anyone who might be nearby.

After a minute or two of verifying that the kitchen, and adjacent rooms, were empty, he slowly pushed the chute door open with his feet, blinking uncontrollably as his eyes were exposed to bright light once more. The door swivelled downward, so he scooted out of the chute, still holding the rope, until he was sitting on the door. At the same time, he let go of the rope and hopped onto the floor.

He tried to ignore the sound of the plank falling down the chute, the chute door closing, his footsteps, his laboured breathing, and even his heartbeat, as he stuffed the last of his candy into his mouth. Nevertheless, every sound he made appeared to be much louder than normal. In fact, the kitchen was quiet, TOO quiet, without the humming of electric motors from the refrigerator or water cooler or—

WATER COOLER!!!

Survival instinct took over again. Leaving behind bloody and sweaty footprints, the Australian limped across the kitchen, almost as if the water cooler had an inescapable gravity well and he had been caught in it. He didn't bother getting a glass, but instead leaned down, twisted his head, and drank straight from the valve, swallowing greedily, and loudly, as his gulps were drowning out the sound of the bubbles that gurgled up the water bottle.

He had never felt so thirsty in his life. The pain in his arm had deadened mostly all other feelings, but the sight and taste of water suddenly made his body realise that it had lost too many fluids in blood and sweat. In fact, several seconds after he began drinking he began sweating uncontrollably again, drenching his clothes once more in seconds.

He couldn't drink fast enough, it seemed, so out of desperation, he grabbed the plastic valve, gave it a quick twist, and broke it off the cooler. Now the water gushed out of the bottle unimpeded and poured down his throat and down his front.

For the first time since entering the mansion, he felt relief, and his head began clearing more and more. He let the water run all over his face and hair, and pour over his injured arm. The coldness of the water deadened the pain back to a slightly more tolerable level, too. It still hurt like Hell, but at least the pain wasn't overriding his mind and senses. The water also soothed the injuries caused by the lasers and those cats, too.

After blinking for a moment, he realised that all the red had faded from his vision, and he did not have to consciously force his eyes to focus, and even the ringing in his ears was gone as well. There remained a dull buzz in his head, but at least it didn't feel like his head was going to explode at any second.

The bottle finally emptied, and he took several deep breaths to reset his breathing pattern. The hyperventilating had finally stopped.

Time to get out of he—

"Wallace Beatles, what are you doing here, drinking so grossly out of our water cooler??"

_……oh crud……_

"And look at this mess! It doesn't have anything to do with the total blackout we're having, does it? We also hope you didn't have anything to do with some alarms and hallway turrets activating several minutes ago."

_…I don't need these dorks right now…_

Slowly, Wallaby Beatles turned around.

Walking in perfect step and unison, the five Delightful Children From Down The Lane, all holding laser blasters, approached the Australian.

And stopped.

He_looked_ like the "Wallace"—as they called him—they knew, from the back, but they were a bit surprised when he turned around.

_Something was definitely wrong._

First of all, he was soaking wet, from head to toe. He had scratch marks all over his face and arms, and his clothes were torn everywhere. His shirt was missing both sleeves, but only his left arm was exposed. He couldn't be hiding his right arm behind his back because they saw him turn around, so it appeared that he was missing an arm, unless he was hiding it under his shirt, meaning he _could_ be holding a weapon under there, but he wouldn't dare draw it, not with the five of them holding him at gunpoint. He was also breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

But there was something else about him that made them a bit uneasy, despite them having greater firepower.

It wasn't so much his scowl, which they expected from him.

_It was his eyes._

Normally, his eyes were covered under his bowl cut, but with his blonde hair currently matted on his head, they could see his green eyes.

Despite the swelling over most of his face, and most notably having both eyes darkening and beginning to swell, shut, something about his eyes was somewhat—frightening.

There was a look of fierceness, of unspeakable anger, of total rage, of primal instinct, that none of them had ever seen before on the Australian.

_…insanity…_

Not the type caused by paranoia or fear, like Numbuh Twenty Thousand, or the type caused by disease or hormonal imbalance.

No. The insanity in his eyes seemed almost…_natural_…

Simply put, he was looking at them like a predator to his prey—

No. THEY were the ones in charge here; after all, they had their weapons on HIM. "What happened to you, Wallace? Did our kittens get to you or something?"

Numbuh Four just looked at them.

He didn't answer.

He_could_ just go with the flow and beat the tar out of them, weapons or not, and let the pain in his arm be the fuel that would bring him to finally _destroy_ the Delightful Dorks once and for all.

He began clenching his left fist, almost trying to will the red to come back to his eyes—

—he felt Kuki's picture again.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath, and replied, "Oi don't have toime for yew," and turned to the nearest door.

The Delightful Children almost took a step back when they noticed that his voice seemed to match the insanity, fierceness, wildness, and determination that were in his eyes.

They didn't dare admit it out loud, but even with their weapons trained on him, they realised that they were truly afraid of Numbuh Four…or whoever was standing in front of them—

—and about to leave?

Their hive mentality kicked in again, making them blink back into battle mode.

Numbuh Four stopped when he heard five guns click behind him.

"Now, now, Wallace, we wouldn't be good hosts if we just let you leave without offering you anything. We're sure that Father would want to help you with your…injuries." The five smiled again, and approached the Australian.

Numbuh Four turned and faced them again.

The five stopped again under his frightful gaze, but now they were able to notice something: his right arm was clearly under his red-stained shirt, but—

"Wallace, did something happen to your arm? You look like you've tried to run through our defences—and lost—so, please stay for a while so we can—take care of you…" The five children were now face to face with Wally.

The Australian didn't bother moving, but just glared at them with contempt, and insanity. _"Get outta moi face, yew Deloightful Dorks,"_ he hissed dangerously. _"Oi will NOT foight yew,"_ he almost chuckled at the movie reference, _"not todoy, at least. Oi've got bettah things t'dew, so Oi'm gonna leave, 'n yew're NOT gonna stop me, is—that—clear??"_

He seemed to speak with authority, as if he were _in charge_ of the situation—

No.

"You seem to forget," they replied in a quick recovery, "that you're in _our_ house, meaning you're our _guest_. You will _not_ order us around in our own house, Wallace. Now, we _insist_ that you stay." They smiled at him, raising their blasters at his head. "It wouldn't be…_delightful_ of us to just let you go in your condition, don't you think so, Wallace—?"

There was no time to warn her. In fact, time seemed to slow down as he turned slightly to follow the movements of the short fat girl, who stood at his right.

Condescendingly, she reached out with her left arm…

…she extended her palm…

…and proceeded to do a gentle and friendly physical gesture on his hoodie, where she thought his right arm was.

_…pat…_

_……PAT……_

_………__**PAT**__………_

He turned to glare at her eyes.

_…red, nothing but red…_

…and the bottom fell out of the mind of Wallaby Beatles…………

Before the short fat girl could grimace in disgust at the feel of water, sweat, and blood on her hand from his hoodie, the next thing she knew was that the Australian had snatched her fat arm with his left hand.

"Wallace! What are you—!!"

Fuelled by the most insane level of pain he had ever felt, the boy squeezed as hard as he could, gritting his teeth, growling like a bunyip, and his eyes almost blasting out heat vision.

SNAP

The fat girl yelped out of unison as an extra elbow appeared on her arm, and she was forced to her knees. In a flash, Wally ducked, avoiding four laser blasts that exploded on the wall behind him; he snatched her blaster from the girl's good hand, and brought up the blaster on the chin of the short blonde boy. The blonde boy's next shot went wild, as he staggered back into the three taller children; causing _them_ to stumble backwards and having their shots go wild as well. Following his own movement, he then knocked out the short fat girl by smashing his forehead on the top of her head.

Still, they were between him and the doors and windows, so he couldn't make a run for it just yet. Other than the short fat girl, the Delightful Children didn't fall down, so before they could recover, he jumped backward on the breakfast table, causing it to flip to its side, making it an impromptu shield. Almost immediately after, the rain of lasers began again.

And almost immediately, too, the table began to disintegrate as four angry children shot bolt after bolt on it. He wasn't going to last long here, but what could he do with just one gun and one good arm? He tried to return fire, but he couldn't get a good shot on any of them, not even of the girl who lay still on the floor. Still, the pain in his arm subsided long enough for an idea to form.

He leaned out a bit, and shot at the sink.

The valve almost exploded out of the pipe, and embedded itself on the ceiling, while a jet of water blasted out of the sink and soaked the Delightful Children. Blinded momentarily, they yelped and staggered behind the water jet, giving Wally enough time to shoot back at them through the water.

He only got a few shots, though, as they took cover behind the refrigerator and shot back at him, just as he pushed his shield next to the sink cabinet, which was directly under the windows. He blasted the frame open, sending glass exploding outside on the snow, letting an arctic breeze start filling the kitchen. He now had his way out, but he couldn't cartwheel himself out, and if he tried a hop and jump, his right arm would be exposed to blasts from the Delightful Children. If he tried using a chair as a shield, he'd still have to stop shooting, and the additional weight and bulk might turn into a death trap.

He was going to have to do this _really quick_.

He gave a few shots in their direction, forcing them to take cover, and jumped on the countertop.

At the same time the short blonde boy peeked out and blasted the countertop from under him.

Pain exploded from his arm, and leg now, as he was forced to summersault back onto the floor, right on the edge of the table. Another blast finally split the table in two, rendering it useless as a shield.

He could only jump all over the kitchen, unable to shoot back as much as he wished, since he had to use his good arm to steady himself as he bounced off the walls, floor, and counter. But the Delightful Children wouldn't let him near the door or window. As the shootout progressed, the Delightful Children managed to get a few shots on his leg and shoulders, singing and tearing his already dilapidated attire. His hoodie was nothing but rags now, and it seemed that the only thing that was holding it up was the impromptu sling.

With each landing and jump, however, more and more pain shot up to his brain, making him see more and more red.

_…anger…_

_…unspeakable…unbridled…primal…vengeful…fiery…blazing…explosive…impossible…unstoppable…_

_…__**ANGER**__…_

He had enough.

He HAD to take them down.

They refused to split up, save for the unconscious fat girl, even if it would give them the strategic advantage.

That gave HIM the advantage, too.

Jumping again, he rotated in mid-air several times—

—and shot at the stove.

The ensuing explosion wasn't huge or destructive enough to blow out a hole in the wall large enough for him to escape through, but it was LOUD, and strong enough to blow both parties further apart.

They stopped shooting.

RUN FOR IT!!!

He didn't take more than three steps when his blaster was shot from his hand by the blonde girl.

And that was drop that made the glass overflow.

No time to nurse his bleeding hand. Just enough to ride out the brief shockwave. He let himself be pushed back, turned, and aided by blasts exploding at his heels, he ran up the wall, jumped, and somersaulted himself up, back, over, and—

—landing right in the middle of the four remaining Delightful Children.

Landing with a vengeance, too, because as he was coming down, he sent himself into a spin, and gave the Delightful Children a taste of a roundhouse kick that they thought only existed in video games.

A few blasters were kicked out of some hands.

Lenny's helmet cracked by the force of the multiple kicks it received, sending the dark-skinned boy down. His helmet split open the moment it hit the floor.

At this, the Delightful Children had no choice but to split up, as each of them tried to shield themselves from the kicks. With them giving Wally some distance as he landed, he drew his S.C.A.M.P.P. this time, and fired it point blank at the closest Delightful Child: the short blonde boy.

Two down.

WHAM!!!

His S.C.A.M.P.P. was kicked from his hand by a helmet-less Lennie, and he was suddenly almost thrown out of balance by David, who did so by yanking on what was left of his hoodie.

That only served to fuel his pain and fury.

As he turned, he drew his remaining gun, his M.U.S.K.E.T., and gave David a full shot in the face.

Three down.

Unfortunately, the blonde girl and Lennie had managed to recover their blasters, and gave him a few good shots, sending him flying back, and sliding on the floor until he hit the cabinet with his head.

His nose then caught the smell of burning plastic.

He opened his eyes, and saw Kuki's picture burning on the floor next to him.

_Oooh, he was angry now…_

Unfortunately, the whole ordeal had demanded too much from his body already. As he tried to stand, he felt tell-tale blaster injuries in his leg, hip, and left torso, sapping his speed and strength. He stumbled a bit on his feet, aimed his M.U.S.K.E.T. at the two remaining Delightful Children, and shot.

_Click—click—click—click—_

_Oh, crud…_

There was finally a pause in the battle; Lennie and the blonde girl straightened up, ignoring the swelling and lacerations on their faces. They smoothed down their singed clothing and dishevelled hair, and limped in unison as best as they could. Even their scowls were in unison, as well as the daggers that shot from their eyes—despite the right one starting to swell shut—a rare sight for the Delightful Children. "Give it up, Wallace. We're taller than you, you're out of ammunition, and from the looks of you, you're going to fall unconscious any moment now. You've lost, so stop prolonging your pain. By the time we're done—'fixing' you," they smiled, "you will have forgotten all the pain and your true self will have emerged. Now, drop your weapon, and come with us."

They were right, unfortunately, as his eyes seemed to want to close due to exhaustion _and_ swelling. But as he fought to remain conscious, he noticed one thing, as the two moved closer.

Their singed attire had torn loose a few pockets, and some of them had lost their contents.

The blonde girl's left pocket, however, had torn a bit, but one item was hanging from the threads.

The Rainbow Monkey™ keychain.

In a flash, he remembered that mission, when they almost lost Numbuh One to a life of living like a mindless monkey, all in the name of that cruddy keychain—

—and he remembered Kuki once more. She would have loved getting that keychain.

He also saw a few blasters on the floor, but they were too far away to reach them. He tilted his head up for a moment, fighting another wave of dizziness, struggling to stay awake—

—and noticed something on the ceiling.

"Awl…awl roight," he gasped, slowly raising his spent M.U.S.K.E.T., and holding it by the tip. "Yew win…juss…get meh t'a cruddy 'ospital," he blinked slowly.

"Oh, we'll do much better than that," they smiled, coming closer.

Wally tossed the M.U.S.KE.T. away.

And it landed on one blaster that was on the floor.

The resulting blast only managed to make the two Delightful Children flinch, but no more, since it missed them completely. Turning back to him, they saw that he was seconds away from losing consciousness. "Nice try, Kid Next Dope. Now, say 'good night', Wallace."

"'G'noight, Wollece'."

CRASH!!!

Silence.

Coughing some dust away, he waited a bit to make sure that the piece of ceiling that fell on the two was enough to knock them out. He couldn't wait too long, as there were other pieces of plaster above them that wouldn't need a laser blast to send them crashing down. Limping even more, he picked up his weapons, their weapons, and frisked the blonde girl briefly before tearing out the Rainbow Monkey keychain. He then turned, but stopped, as he suddenly got an idea when he remembered a certain cartoon.

A bit unsteadily, he took the blonde girl's lip left hand, and placed over Lenny's gluteus maximus.

_They're going to be very surprised when they wake up, _he chuckled to himself.

Laughing a bit, he limped toward the door and reached for the doorknob—

_"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY KITCHEN????!!!!" _demanded the tall thin fiery man with a full-body black suit, as he yanked the door open.

Wally gasped, but couldn't jump back, though he felt a bit of relief as the arctic air blew on his face. He then looked up at the adult's glaring face, in total contempt of his menacing powers.

He really didn't have time for him.

"Yew're loights are out," was his only response. He then gave the doorframe a swift kick, and before Father could build up a fireball in his hand, a huge pile of snow fell on him, extinguishing him momentarily, but not quite knocking him out, as he groaned and shivered with cold under all that snow.

With an annoyed sigh, Wally squeezed himself through the pile of snow, and eventually made it outside.

The sudden reality of the freezing wind hit him like a slap in the face; since his hoodie was gone, save for the sling. His pants legs were frayed and split, his sneakers had been split open by the laser blasts, and whatever pieces of clothing he had left were drenched with water, sweat, and blood.

Still, he felt relief from the pain as the cold air filled his lungs.

He was finally outside.

_Uh…now what?_

_Oh, right, call for help._

"This…is…this is Numbuh…Numbuh Four… of th'Kids… th'Kids Next Door… any sec-c-c-c-ctor… come in… Oi'm at… uh… outsoide Father's mansion… need… need… uh… wutdoyewc-c-c-c-c-allthat… uh… extraction… immediate… extrac-c-c-c-c-ction… need……. medic……… need……… water……………… need………………… sugar………………………… need……………………………………………… K-K-K-K-Kuki…………………………….."

He fell on the snow; face down, dropping his communicator, but feeling calm, very calm, as the snow numbed his torso and arm.

"Numbuh Four? Numbuh Four?"

He thought he heard an angel call him.

"Numbuh Four? This is Numbuh Three!! Hold your position! We're on our way to get you out of there! Father should be back any moment, so try not to let him see you!! Do you copy, Numbuh Four?"

_Soothing cold…_

"Numbuh Four??? Wally??? Do you read?? WALLY!! PLEASE RESPOND!!! _WALLY!!!!!!_"

_Cold…how good it felt…_

_Soothing…relieving cold…_

_So nice…so calming…_

_Cold…_

_………soothing cold………_

The blonde boy lost consciousness, and lay completely still on the snow, his metabolism slowing, and his breathing and heartbeat also descending with his body temperature…

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED


	6. Epilogue and Credits

TRANSMISSION RESTORED

EPILOGUE: AFTERMATH

"He's coming around."

"Around what? He's not moving, silly!"

"That means he's waking UP, girl!!"

"Hee hee, I knew that, silly! I was just making a joke!"

"Man, you're worse than Numbuh Two. I'll inform the others. This is going to be an interesting story…"

Wally slowly opened his eyes, managing to catch a long dark hair braid move out the door. He tried to lift his head, but couldn't get very far.

Not that he minded, since the next thing he saw was Numbuh Three, Kuki Sanban, standing beside his bed, and dressed in her Medical Officer uniform.

"K…Kuki?" he asked, in a disturbingly hoarse voice.

"Hi, Wally," she replied, patting his head. Her usual giddiness seemed to have been suppressed a bit, and the look in her eyes conveyed genuine worry, and relief.

Nevertheless, he loved that smile.

He was able to look around a bit. He was on a KND Sickbay Bed, and had Band-Aids all over his arms. His right arm has been set on a cast and a proper sling, while his left arm was hooked up to an IV. The horrible pain was gone from his arm, at last, and he only felt a dull but tolerable ache.

From the look of the window, it was nighttime already.

"How are you feeling, Wally?"

He groaned as he searched for an answer. "Loike Oi've got run ovah boi a buh-million pianos——all loined with barbed wire…"

"Hee hee hee, you're silly."

"Well, 'ee SHOULD feel that woi!" Ugh, there was that annoying shrill voice of Numbuh Eighty-Six, as she entered the room, followed, fortunately, by the rest of Sector V. "N' t'was about TOIME ye woke up! Ye've been loyin' on yer arrse f'r a good THRREE doys!!!"

"Three doys???" He suddenly realised something. "No wonder Oi've gotta pee real bad! Oi've—hey, this isn't moi room!!"

"Aye, took ye that long t'figgurre it out?!"

He was about to reply, but right there, everyone silenced and stood at attention, and saluted as several operatives from Global Command entered his room. Standing side-by-side against the walls, they all formed a path from the door, and suddenly everyone saluted one more time as none other than Numbuh Three Sixty-Two entered the room.

"Thank you, Numbuh Eighty-Six, that will be enough," she said. It was rather difficult NOT to hear the Irish girl talk, even at a distance. Numbuh Three Sixty-Two then faced the bed.

Wally suddenly realised what he had to do, and he tried to raise his left arm, without much success. He fidgeted a bit, making the others look oddly at him. "Uh…Commender…um…please forgive meh f'r not standin' t'salute yew properly…Oi… 'ope that doesn't go on moi record—"

"At ease, Numbuh Four, that's the least of my worries right now," she replied calmly. "To clear up a few things: you're not at Sector V; you're at the Moonbase Sickbay. I ordered your transfer here when it was clear that Numbuh Three was going to need help with your condition. Now, I need to ask you: do you feel fully awake, or do you honestly feel like you can't stay awake and are going to fall asleep again?" Rachel wasn't angry, but oddly enough, she sounded concerned as well.

"Uh…no, Commender, Oi don't think Oi'll go back t'sleep until Oi go t'the bathroom—"

"You will, in a moment." Rachel then turned to the bald boy beside her, "You may begin, Numbuh One."

The leader of Sector V stepped up to the bed and began, "Numbuh Four, you were sent to the lowest level of Father's mansion to retrieve information from his computer, but we lost contact with you ten minutes after you went inside. Your next transmission was picked up ninety minutes later outside the kitchen door. You were found unconscious, heavily injured, without a shirt, proper shoes, almost without pants, and hypothermic, and for a moment, I thought you…" he faltered, a rare moment for Numbuh One, "…I thought we had lost you, because you had called for medical help without using your emergency siren."

He didn't have the strength to break it open, Wally realised.

"Still, the S.K.R.A.M.B.U.L.A.N.C.E. team managed to stabilise you, but we needed the Moonbase's facilities to handle the heavy stuff."

"Wow, noiety minutes?" asked the Australian. "It sure seemed longer than—um—" Wally looked down at his sheets, unable to face his superiors. "Uh…Numbuh One…Commender…Oi…uh…failed the mission. Th'alarms started ringin' when—"

"What are you talking about?" interrupted Numbuh Two. "You GOT the information!"

"Huh?"

"Yeah! When we picked you up, we searched your pockets, and we found your W.A.R.P.D.R.I.V.E.! It's chock-full of EVERYTHING that Father is planning for the next TWO YEARS!!! All the KND nerds are scrambling to sort all the info, and there have even been a few fist fights at the lab because they all want to get their hands on the data!! You did it, Numbuh Four!!!"

"Oi…Oi thought Oi left it in Father's room…" Wally gasped, falling back on the pillow.

Numbuh Three Sixty-Two added, "That's not all. We also found the Rainbow Monkey™ keychain that the Delightful Children won…despite the Kids Next Door using resources behind my back," she glared at Fanny, who gulped and rubbed her hands nervously. "That keychain also had several flash drives attached to it. It seems that the Delightful Children were planning stuff on their own as well, but they'll be surprised when they try using them against us. You got more information than we could ever hope for, Numbuh Four. Congratulations on your mission accomplished." With that, Rachel stepped up to the bed, and placed the Rainbow Monkey™ keychain, sans the flash drives, on Wally's left hand.

At that, Fanny's face turned red with rage.

"Numbuh Four, as a reward for your actions above and beyond your call of duty to the Kids Next Door, I'm granting you medical leave, and vacation time in Sector Y of Polynesia. I'm sure that there you'll bring yourself up to speed in a month or so." And rarely more than a month, as all Kids Next Door knew that even the harshest of injuries healed very quickly, thanks to their secret medical treatment. "Numbuh Three will assist you in your recovery as well."

Wally's eyes widened. He couldn't believe it. A whole month on a tropical vacation with Kuki!!! "Uh…thank yew, Commender!" He tried to salute again, without success. "Oi'll return t'Sector V as soon as moi arm gets back together."

Fanny fumed again, for some reason.

Nigel spoke up now, "Another reason why everyone was waiting for you to wake up is that we're very curious to find out what happened inside the mansion, Numbuh Four. An oral report will suffice, given that you can't write or type in your condition."

"Uh…sure, boss…um…but Oi think yew'll need chairs f'r this. It's goin' t'take a whoile."

The bald boy looked at the blonde one through his sunglasses, and replied. "Very well. We'll get them now. Come on, team." Sector V, except for Kuki, filed out. Moments later, Global Command and the rest also went to get their chairs, except for Rachel.

"Numbuh Three, wait outside," she said, surprising the nurse and patient.

"But—sir! I'm tending to—"

"I know that, Kuki. This will only take a minute."

"Uh…yes, sir," Kuki meekly saluted and left the room.

When the door closed, Rachel stepped up to the blonde boy, removed her helmet, and ran her hand through his hair. "Numb—Wally," she stuttered, "it's no joke that we almost lost you, and if we had—I would have never forgiven myself."

He blinked at her. "But—it wouldn't 'ave been yewre fault, Comm—"

"No, but I'm responsible for this whole organization, Wally, for everything, and everyone. I've never lost any operative due to accidents, attacks, or injuries received on the line of duty. However, I made it a point to myself that if I should ever lose an operative, I would focus as hard as I could on memorizing their name and numbuh…searing them into my heart to ensure that they'll never be forgotten—even with my own decommissioning—and…I almost did that with YOU. When that almost happened, I—suddenly realised just how horrible and tragic that would have been for everyone, the KND, your family——Wally, if you had—died—I—I—" she blinked back tears, "I would have killed you, and then I would have killed myself, is that clear??"

He was confused for a moment, but all he could answer was, "A—aye, Commender."

She smiled maternally at him, "We're all glad you're okay now, Wally. Now, you and Kuki better not start causing trouble at Sector Y, okay?" She leaned down and kissed his hair, not wishing to do more, since she knew perfectly well who he belonged to.

"Numbuh Three Sixty-Two, you're required at the data lab. Another fight has broken out," rang the computer through the intercom.

"Figures," she sighed, donning her helmet again, and then she chuckled, "Maybe I should tell all the nerds something like, 'a Kid Next Door almost_died_—to bring you that information.' Maybe THAT should calm them down!"

"Well, Oi moight calm 'em down, but…um…Oi can't get up at the moment."

She smiled and squeezed his good hand. "Take care of Kuki, will ya?" He almost blushed at that, but dismissed that as a recommendation for him to make sure Kuki didn't get distracted with girly stuff, or something. With that, Rachel stepped outside, and signalled the Japanese girl that she could go back inside. Kuki, however, realised that she, too, needed a chair, so turned and was also about to leave.

"Kuki…woit!!!"

"Yes, Wally?" she asked, walking up to him again.

"Um…" Again, he was lost for words. It ALWAYS happened whenever he wanted to say something nice to her. "Uh……Merry Christmas…Oi guess…" He held out the keychain to her.

Kuki almost staggered back. "W—what? B—but—Wally—it—it's not Christmas yet!!"

"Oi—Oi know—Oi juss—don't think that Oi'll be able to buy anythin' f'r a bit."

Slowly, the Japanese girl reached out and took the keychain from his hand, almost afraid that it was going to shatter like frail glass. Suddenly, she flung her arms around him and screamed, muffled by his pillow, "THANK YOU, WALLY!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!"

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! MOI ARM!!! MOI ARM!!!!"

Sheepishly, she released him, and carefully set his arm back into the sling. "Uh…sorry, Wally," she blushed. As she patted everything down, making sure he was comfortable, a look of horror and worry swept over her face, over her eyes. Her jaw trembled. "W—Wally—"

"Kuki? Wot's wrong?"

She gently touched the back of his head, as tears slowly flowed, "Wally—we—_I_ almost lost you. When I got your message that you needed a medic—that you needed me—I—" she shivered. "For the first time, I realised that I could lose you—forever—and no Rainbow Monkey™ would ever help me get over that. I'm so glad you're okay now. And—I know you'll go on many more missions—and be in danger and everything, but—" she sniffed. "Wally, please, just be a bit more careful! The treehouse would be very lonely and sad without you!"

He smiled at her, and blushed, "Um…well…do yew know wut kept meh goin'—wut pulled meh through?

She wiped her nose. "What?"

He didn't have the picture, so he just held her hand, and blushed more and more. "YEW did. YEW pulled meh through. Thanks…f'r pullin' meh through…"

She raised an eyebrow for a moment, and said, "Through what? Wally, I wasn't with you in the mansion!"

He smiled at her, making her blush even more. "Come closer. Oi don't want th'others t'hear this part…"

Just outside the door, Fanny Fulbright turned and stormed away. There was no way she was going to hear HIS side of the story.

_Bloody STYOOPID boy, he only got lucky…_

A short distance away, Abby and Hoagie were coming back with their chairs, and saw Fanny storm off.

"What's with her?" asked Hoagie.

Abby chuckled, "Don't tell anyone, but Numbuh Five thinks that Fanny there can't stand it when a boy succeeds at something," she leaned to his ear, "but if you ask Numbuh Five, she thinks that there's somethin' deeper goin' on," and she winked at Hoagie.

Fanny turned, and could just see Wally and Kuki through the window on the door. She thought she saw Wally pull her down, perhaps to tell her a secret, or even more, to—

—she did NOT need to see that, and stormed off again.

She then remembered something she heard a while back, perhaps from her mother:

_**"I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift,**__**nor the battle to the strong**__**, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but **__**time and chance**__** happens to them all."**_

Yes, that must have been it. STYOOPID boy was only lucky. That's right, it was pure luck, and she did not need to hear it.

She turned, and saw the two suddenly separate when Abby and Hoagie entered.

Nothing but luck.

She ran, wiping a tear from her eye, hoping no one would see her, and wondered when would be HER chance to get lucky.

_Again._

END TRANSMISSION

THE END / DAS ENDE / DIE EINDE / EINDE / EL FIN / O FIM / LE FIN / IL FINE / SFIRSIT / KONIEC / KONEC / BEIGAS / LOPPU / TELOS / SOF / TAMAT / LIAU LIAU / DANEH O' / WAN-LE / OWARIMASU / SLUTT / SLUT / UXUL

* * *

CREDITS

All characters were created by Tom Warburton.

All characters and all Kids Next Door indicia are © Curious Pictures/Cartoon Network (and used without permission, but it's doubtful that they mind)

Covert Casting and Voice Director:

Collete Sunderman

Vocal Assault:

Numbuh 1 is Benjamin Diskin

Numbuh 2 is also Benjamin Diskin

Numbuh 3 is Lauren Tom

Numbuh 4 is Dee Bradley Baker

Numbuh 5 is Cree Summer Franks

Numbuh 86 is Jennifer Hale

Numbuh 362 is Rachel MacFarlane

The computer is also Jennifer Hale

Father is Maurice Lamarche

and

The Delightful Children From Down The Lane are also Benjamin Diskin, Dee Bradley Baker, and Cree Summer Franks

Composer Commandos:

Tom Chase

Steve Rucker

Vince Di Cola

* * *

No copyright infringement is intended or implied. I did all this for the fun of it.

All of the characters, places, and events portrayed in this fanfic are fictitious. Any resemblance to any real persons, places, or events is unintentional and purely coincidental.

* * *

SPECIAL THANKS

To Power Bible CD

To Lord Malachite, for coming up with this idea, and for a line or two :D

* * *

EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS

To Tom Warburton, for coming up with such wonderful characters.

Just in case you're wondering, the various ways of saying "The End" are written in English, German, Afrikaans, Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, Romanian, Polish, Russian, Latvian, Finnish, Greek, Hebrew, Malay, Hokkien, Seneca, Chinese, Japanese, Norwegian, Swedish, and Mayan, respectively.

* * *

¡Zacatepóngolas!

Until next time, remember:

I

AM

THE

J.A.M. (a.k.a. Numbuh _i_. "Just because I'm imaginary doesn't mean I don't exist")

Good evening.

(WARP!!!)


End file.
